Material Breath: Locating Haptic Memories in Space

When we gaze deep into a space, light ceases to be merely a physical phenomenon penetrating a transparent medium; it arrests upon the rough surface of rice straw, swallowed by irregular pores, or is refracted by the organic moisture at the growing edge of mycelium. This visual blur and resistance force us to abandon the desire to see everything at a glance, compelling us instead to mobilise our skin and bodies to perceive the weight of particles suspended in the air. This is a moment of shifting from "viewing" to "dwelling," an Ontological Confrontation—where previously silent fillers begin to breathe and expand their presence around us. We are living in an era defined by a crisis of smoothness; our fingers glide endlessly over glass screens, starving for friction, while our bodies are contained in sanitised, hermetic environments that deny the passage of time. I argue that contemporary spatial design must transcend the visual pleasure of form to construct a "material breath," a dialectic in which primitive haptic memories and emerging digital perceptions are not opposed but collaboratively weave the spiritual density of space.

The Roughness of History and Regional Resistance

In Sukchulmok’s work Mok-04, Rice Straw & Jige, the material is not merely a decorative element but a historical presence thrust violently toward the viewer. The designer transforms rice straw—common in traditional Korean agriculture—through high-density stacking and weaving into a coarse skin covering a modern metal structure. These are not uniform industrial products; they are tangled, prickly, perhaps even carrying the scent of burning or the damp musk of the field, intervening in the space with a posture of Occupying. When the viewer attempts to approach, the uncompromising physical texture of the straw forces the body to retreat; visual fluidity is disrupted, replaced by an awe for the weight of time. The straw creates a boundary that is not a wall, but a dense thicket of memory that resists easy consumption.

I cite Kenneth Frampton’s "Critical Regionalism" here to deepen this context: Frampton points out that the key to resisting globalised, mediocre architecture lies in how materials evoke the sedimentation of regional culture. Mok-04 rejects the smooth aesthetic of modernism through this extreme roughness, rendering the material a hard fortress against oblivion. However, to understand the making of this fortress, I also introduce Tim Ingold’s concept of "Correspondence" from his text Making (2013). Ingold argues that making is not about imposing a preconceived form onto matter, but about "joining forces" with the material’s flow. The architect of Mok-04 did not merely use straw; they had to surrender to the straw’s inherent directionality, its brittleness, and its resistance to bending. This dialogue transforms the work from a static object into a record of a struggle between human hand and vegetal fibre. It is not merely straw; it is a spatialised memory that reaffirms the power of the land in every encounter with the gaze.

The Impermanence of Growth and the Philosophy of Symbiosis

If Mok-04 is the coagulation of history, then Mizzi Studio’s The Living Bridge demonstrates how material flows and metabolises as a living entity. This bridge is not constructed of dead matter but rather grown from mycelium and bamboo. Guided by the bamboo framework, the mycelium Seeps into every void, transforming artificial structure into a natural extension with a slow, determined biological rhythm. Formally, the bridge is no longer an object that cuts off the line of sight, but a process that is "happening"; it does not seek eternal stillness but embraces the cycle of decay and regeneration. The "colour" of the bridge is not painted but evolves, shifting from creamy whites to earthy browns as the organism matures and responds to environmental humidity.

Walking through it, the viewer is no longer an external observer but is engulfed in a breathing, organic system, experiencing an intimacy of being surrounded. I use Timothy Morton’s concept of "Hyperobjects" as a theoretical lever to illustrate this shift in scale: mycelium forces us to realise that human architecture is not a fortress independent of nature, but a transient state within a vast ecological network. Furthermore, I invoke Jane Bennett’s theory of "Vibrant Matter" to politicise this vitality. Bennett argues that matter possesses "thing-power"—an agency that acts upon us just as we act upon it. In The Living Bridge, the material is not a passive substrate; it is a collaborator that demands specific conditions of care and moisture to survive. This forces a shift in the "viewer experience" from passive consumption to an ethics of stewardship. This "breathing" of material is a gentle yet radical deconstruction of architectural arrogance regarding permanence, suggesting a future where buildings are grown, cared for, and eventually allowed to die.

The Living Bridge Bamboo Building by Mizzi Studio

The Living Bridge Section Drawing by Mizzi Studio

The Extension of Organs and the Blurring of the Body

Moving from macro-architecture to micro-furniture, Boyeon Kim and Jaehan Choi’s omni chair further blurs the boundary between object and body. This work is not a chair in the traditional sense, but rather a modular structural system resembling biological tissue. Here, material manifests as an active state of adapting; metal joints and fabrics connect like muscle and bone, reorganising according to the user's posture. In terms of spatial behaviour, it does not sit statically waiting to be used, but actively entangles the user’s body, transforming sitting into a symbiotic relationship. The chair refuses the "standardised body" of modernist ergonomics—it does not demand you sit up straight; it asks how you want to be held.

The viewer's experience shifts from simple "usage" to "dialogue," where the body’s contours blur within the furniture’s embrace. I introduce Juhani Pallasmaa’s arguments in The Eyes of the Skin to fill a cognitive gap: Modern design’s over-reliance on visual dominance has led to haptic poverty. &omni is a microcosmic embodiment of the "haptic architecture" Pallasmaa calls for, reminding us that the essence of space lies not in looking, but in the pre-linguistic, intimate contact and confirmation between body and material. The chair becomes a prosthetic extension of the self, a "modular organ" that externalises the body's internal need for support and flexibility. It challenges the rigid dichotomy between the animate subject and the inanimate object, proposing instead a continuous feedback loop in which the furniture "listens" to the occupant's somatic shifts.

Digital Texture and the Illusion of Reciprocity

Finally, we must confront how digital media intervenes in this material dialogue. Jade Tang’s Spaces of Reciprocity does not discard physical entities but superimposes light, shadow, and screens as a "new material" onto living spaces. Here, digital imagery is not a virtual escape but is deposited onto physical surfaces as a second skin. Light passes through semi-transparent media, creating an Overlay state where reality and virtuality intersect, rendering spatial boundaries ambiguous. The projection does not cover the wall; it interacts with the wall's texture, creating a hybrid surface that is neither fully physical nor fully optical.

In this environment, the viewer Oscillates between focusing on the physical wall and losing themselves in the image's depth. I argue that this creates a "Digital Patina." Just as rust accumulates on iron, data accumulates on our spaces. This counters the argument that the digital space is inherently "disembodied." Tang’s work shows that light and data, when anchored to a specific site, acquire mass and gravity. They create an atmosphere that can be felt, a "mood" that alters the temperature of the room. This reciprocal relationship reveals a new definition of material in the digital age: it is not limited to touchable atoms; photons and data streams possess a "weight" that occupies space and triggers emotional resonance. It is an invisible breath, filling the gap between physical space and psychological projection, proving that the digital can indeed be a site of "tactile" memory, if only we tune our senses to the frequency of its hum.

Spaces of Reciprocity Study Drawing by Jade Tang

Breathing Where the Dust Settles

When we trace the line from the roughness of straw to the growth of mycelium, through modular organs to digital overlays, a clear thread emerges: material is never a silent, dead observer. This is not merely a question of how to build, but an ethics of perception. In this overly smooth, retina-dominated world, we are at risk of sensory numbness. We urgently need these "breathing" materials to anchor our existence and to remind us of our own biological vulnerability.

The "argument" of these materials is one of resistance—resistance against the flattening of experience, resistance against the speed of consumption, and resistance against the forgetting of our ecological origins. When the last ray of light falls on the jagged tips of the straw in Mok-04, catching the dust motes dancing in the air, or as The Living Bridge silently releases spores into the wind, we finally understand that the soul of space is awakened in these tiny, haptic moments. That is the breath of material, and the sound of our own memories settling. It is here, in the texture of the world, that we find the evidence that we are still alive.

Bibliography

Bennett, J. (2010). Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham: Duke University Press.
Boyeon Kim & Jaehan Choi (2023). &omni chair, Art and Materials Lab, 2 Jun. Available at: Art and Materials Lab (Accessed: 4 December 2025).
Frampton, K. (1983). 'Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance', in Foster, H. (ed.) The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture. Port Townsend: Bay Press, pp. 16-30.
Ingold, T. (2013). Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture. London: Routledge.
Mizzi Studio (2021). The Living Bridge, Art and Materials Lab, 24 October. Available at: Art and Materials Lab (Accessed: 12 December 2025).
Morton, T. (2013). Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology after the End of the World. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Pallasmaa, J. (2005). The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses. Chichester: Wiley-Academy.
Sukchulmok (2023). Mok-04, Rice Straw & Jige, Art and Materials Lab, 11 August. Available at: Art and Materials Lab (Accessed: 11 December 2025).
Tang, J. (2022). Spaces of Reciprocity, Art and Materials Lab, 19 October. Available at: Art and Materials Lab (Accessed: 14 December 2025).
Responsible Editor

Ethan Liu